Random Vampyre
by Resident Gypsy
Summary: Luna loves music, but she's not sure about this new band competion. What happens when she signs up for lies, controling fathers, hyperness, general chaos and randomness... and bloodlust?
1. Chapter 1: Random Dark

Chapter 1: Random Dark

"OK, two questions," Stella's perky voice burst into the bored silence we'd been sitting in. I turned away from the limo's tinted window to look at her.

"First, what is this band competition… thing we're going to, and second _why_ are we going to it anyway?"

"Well," Knox spoke up, "you know as much as I do about the actual band-thing, but all the record company rep. said was that this could get us a lot of recognition here…. Mmmnn… huuun" We lapsed back into friendly silence once again. I watched as Stella pulled out her cell phone and started pushing random buttons, by the intense look on her smooth face, she was probably playing some unintelligent game. Knox was listening to her new music while starring at a Sudoku puzzle, She'd gotten hooked on them about a week ago, and she'd gotten the Sudoku Puzzle Book about an hour ago… she was already more than halfway through it.

We are Random Dark, our newest song, "Death Tree," hit #1 most played song on the continent of Europe, so now we're moving on to try our luck with North America. At the moment we're in a black and fire limo, heading to some big, almighty hotel…thing, so we can compete in a competition we've never heard of, against bands we don't know, for a prize we know nothing about, and they say we're informed.

OK, so, allow me to educate those of you who just joined this randomly unintelligent story. My name is Luna Dark (actually it's not, but I'll get to that later.) I was born in Athens, Greece, but I'm not Greek… confused yet? It's I'm Irish. So what were two full-blooded Irish people (aka, my parents) doing in Greece? I don't know… why don't I know? Because they disappeared, and I was adopted. All I know is that I'm 100 Irish, and their names were Robert and Martha. Yeah, _real_ informed. So after that I grew up normally (I know, no shady background, it makes you want to cry) in high school I got into the whole "make-your-own-music" thing (I love that word), I was a great student, so after high school I went to Trinity College in Ireland. It's there that I met Stella and Knox (those aren't their real names either, but as I said, I'll get to it. Or maybe I'll just leave you hanging.)

We met in a Songwriting Class. At first they didn't seem like my kind of people. Stella was dark. She was born in India, and she had hot-coco colored skin, with long-wavy black hair. She had multiple piercings (multiple? Yeah, more like, she looked like a black pincushion) and solid black eyes. She made me think the Anti-Christ was sitting in my class, at a school desk, taking notes on chords, rhythms and scales. I blinked. Knox on the other hand seemed practically invisible. With short, light brown hair and ordinary brown eyes; plus her entire wardrobe consisted of browns: she was invisible. She wasn't breathtaking, but she wasn't ugly, not short or tall, not thin or fat. Seeing as I had nothing better to do (and in no way shape or form was I sitting anywhere near that group of guys that were eyeballing me) I went and sat with them. And it turned out great! Stella was (and still is) hyperactive and anything that could be described as shiny could amuse her for hours. She's capable of giving herself a concussion just by walking (correction, _trying_ to walk) across a completely flat, solid, and non-slippery surface before you can even turn a full circle. Knox, as it turned out was (and is) the resident genius of Trinity College, who can't say an entire sentence without going off into her own world.

We worked perfectly together, Knox was not only great on a drum set, but was a monster when it came to writing instrumental music. Stella was a heaven sent guitarist, but (despite the obvious) a great people person, especially once the piercings came out. She loves the Cameras (just so you know, I call, reporters, stalkers, and photo takers Cameras, 'cause that's all I ever see of them. Stupid paparazzi). Me, I won't deny that I've got a great voice. And it helps a lot that I write all our lyrics.

Time for Irony 101, you see, I'm exactly like Stella and Knox, meaning that my image doesn't match me. I was born with white-blonde hair (and I'm talkin' so white, my hair could pass as being over 300 years old.) I have grey-blue eyes, and a face that could give Helen of Troy a run for her money (at least that's what everyone says _cough cough_ _wink wink_.) What with my pale white skin and tall, thin body, I look like an angel that fell from Heaven. And how far I've fallen. I'm the distant one. I don't remember the last time I laughed, smiled or showed any kind of emotion in public. People tend to bore me; I'd rather be in a silent room working on my newest song lyrics than out in the public eye. When Cameras ask me questions, I'm _devastatingly_ honest and I give the shortest answers possible. It's not my fault most people make watching paint dry more exiting than listening to them.

"Luna?" I turn away from the inward rant, that I'm sure you've been enjoying (whoever you is), to stare at Knox.

"Hn?"(Eloquent aren't I?) She looked at me meaningfully.

"Brace yourself," I could feel the limo slowing.

"And be nice." I returned her pleading look with a demonic smirk before replacing my ice mask.

"I'm not promising anything."


	2. Chapter 2: The Ross Hotel

Chapter 2: The Ross Hotel

Breathe in … breathe out … glare at the Camera … No Luna … breathe… patience, Stella is loving this, don't ruin it. The millisecond that I stepped out of the limo I regretted it. There were Cameras everywhere, the lights flashed. Memorizing, scrutinizing, judging … I HATED this part. Being loved for my music was awesome, being loved for my butt; however, was hell on earth. I'm going to loose it.

"Stella," my voice was quiet, but I know she heard me, but she pretended she didn't.

"Stella …_ please_," she looked at me, catching the slight strain of my jaw and the practically invisible twitch in my left eye (which I'd had a lot of practice at hiding, I _was_ pretty good, but Stella could read people like no other.) She smiled at me, before turning away and waving at the Cameras one last time (honestly, I don't see what's so amusing about posing for a bunch of inanimate objects, who's main goal in life was to blind you.) When she joined us, Knox and I turned and started walking.

We stood in the shadow of The Ross Hotel; at least, that's what the big red sign said that was hanging some 20ft. off the ground in front of the Paul Bunion of buildings. This thing was HUGE. Its shadow reached the driveway maybe 150 ft away … it was 2:30 in the afternoon. The best way to describe it would be to call it a modern-day palace. It was entirely white; the entrance on either side was flanked by white marble, Roman columns. There were windows everywhere, and the roof rose to majestic points, and sometimes opens towers.

We walked through two open glass doors into a large entrance hall. More columns ran down the sides of the hall, in between which there was artwork with everything from Dark Aged paintings to modern photographs. On the floor were white tile (my guess would be _more_ marble, bloody hell, this stuff is everywhere.) On the opposite side of the hall were two massive staircases that curved upward beautifully before joining together at the second level, which wound around the entire entrance hall.

What was even more interesting was the amount of people. I walked through the door and froze, my eyes scanning the crowd (so I'm a paranoid maniac, who isn't these days… don't answer that.) Then… Martin was at my elbow. Martin was our "manager," if you could call him that. In all reality, the record company was our manager, and Martin was its friendly face. Stella called him our Nanny, he was the one that traveled with us, oversaw our performances, booked our hotels and made sure we caught the right flight.

"Hi, girls!" Martin's dry, slightly out-of-breath voice reached my ears. He was short, slightly heavyset and was a balding slightly reddish-brown man who happened to be wearing a slightly out-of-date grey wooly suit.

"Hi Nanny," Stella grinned at him as Knox nodded.

"It's good to see you Martin," I said. He grinned at me. I liked Martin, he was easy-going and smiled a ton, and apart from Stella and Knox, he understood my personality best.

"Well, if you ladies would follow me, they're about to start the announcements." He turned around and started towards a set of double doors. I paused to let the other two go before me. It was easier this way. With so many people, Martin practically had to fight tooth and nail to get through; all I had to do was walk behind.

I was looking up at the second floor and the pictures hanging there. One of them caught my eye, I couldn't see it too clearly but there were dark blues, blacks and browns, in the upper left corner there was a single spot of a lighter color. I was trying to decide what color when I saw Stella out of the corner of my eye. She was born a klutz, so with this many people simply standing near her it wasn't a question of IF, but WHEN would she fall, and how often. Well, the answer to WHEN was NOW. Her hips pitched sideways (of all directions) and her arms stared flailing (I can tell you right now, that fall's going to leave a mark.) Her body followed her hips to the ground. She uttered a small shriek, as her hair swam in her face. It was like watching a black, non-flaming, non-gigantic Hindenburg go down. But she never went SPLAT! I have to say, for her unusual amount of bad luck, she has her good moments too. At the moment Stella was cradled in the arms of a man around our age. His hands were circled around her waist, her hands and head tucked into his chest. She looked up at him, and beamed.

"Hi," she chimed, "I'm Stella!" He chuckled, standing up and setting Stella lightly on her feet. He was tall, maybe 6' 2", with light brown hair. His hairstyle was … interesting to say the least. Not only did he look like he woke up five minutes ago, but also ran through a car wash to get here. It wasn't loose enough to call it casually messy, but not gelled enough to say it was a styled Mohawk…the best I could describe it would be, unique. He smiled, his big brown eyes noticing the stares his hair was receiving.

"Yeah… I call it the Ryhawk. It's a great talking point." Apart from his hair he looked really innocent. Big brown eyes, soft face, olive skin, he had muscles, but not tons, and he was thin. He reminded me of the little kitten we all found out in the rain when we were young. You know the one, it was sitting on your doorstep, hiding from the rain and you asked your parents to keep it. Ok, I'm rambling.

"Why Ryhawk?" Knox's nearly silent voice asked.

"Well… because it's my version of a Mohawk, and my name's Ryan."

"Very creative Ryan, I'm Stella, and thanks for catching me. The brunette is Knox, and the White one is Luna, and this is Martin, the slave driver." Stella indicated each of us in turn and Martin chuckled. Knox stepped forward to take his hand,

"It's good to meet you, and again, thanks for catching …heerr…mh."

"I'm just glad I was fast enough, Luna … right?" Ryan turned to me, extending a hand. I hesitated… and glanced at Stella, who was holding her breath. I could tell she liked him. Nodding, I stepped forward and took his hand.

"So Ryan," Martin called his attention, "Why are you here? Are you in one of the bands?"

"I wish," replied Ryan wistfully, "No, my dad uuuhhh, kinda owns this monster of a place, so I live here. What about you people, you're obviously a band."

"We're called Random Dark," Stella supplied all too willingly, "I'm on guitar, Knox is Queen of the Foot petal," at this point Knox cocked her head, stuck her tongue out and put her hands in the air, making them laugh… I smirked (Oh My Gosh, an emotion!) "And Miss Chatterbox has a voice box made of gold!"

Ryan stared. "Aren't lead singers supposed to be vocal?"

I shrugged it off. "Sorry, I'm a little out of it… long plane ride," I offered.

"I bet… well the sooner we get people into the assembly room, the sooner you can get to your rooms. If you'd follow me M'ladies," Ryan offered his arm to Stella, who took it before the rest of us could register what he'd said, and I still only heard "assembly room," and "rooms."

The rest of us followed them through two side doors into, what looked more like a dance hall, rather than an assembly room. At the far end was a stage, in between the stage and us were tons of chairs each with someone's name on them. Many people were already seated. After Ryan escorted us to our seats, he excused himself, offhandedly saying something about finding his dad. After everyone had entered I ended up sitting next to a tall, black haired man and Stella (who had immediately started talking about the handsome, sweet, cute, caring, gorgeous, unique and smart Ryan.) I rolled my eyes, where was Ryan's dad?

As if on queue a tall, grey haired man appeared on stage. He walked smoothly to the mic.

"Thank you all for coming, I'm Tomas Ross, the host of the Ross Rose Band Competition (I've never heard of it)," he said in a rich voice that made everyone look at him.

"As I'm sure you all know, this is a band competition (shocking!), yet the majority of the people in this room aren't musically inclined. This competition is going to be highly publicized. (You mean I'm sitting in a room full of Cameras) Now if you don't mind I'll announce the names of the bands that are competing, if you would kindly come up here and introduce yourself and your role in the band, that would be much appreciated." And with that he stared calling names. The first band was called "Letters from Hell," a bunch of brutes walked to the stage, one singer's name was Chase. The second was "The Pink Scarves," an all girl band, completely decked out in pink (run for your LIVES); Becky was their spokes-girl. Brandon was part of a mixed group called "Addiction." Jesse was part of "Rushed," and "Heaven" had a girl named Clair.

"Random Dark," Tomas Ross called. Standing up I followed Stella, marveling at the fact that she didn't trip (alert the media, Oh wait… it's already here.) We got to the stage; I could hear that it was hollow. Stella would want to name it later (random piece of info, Stella names every stage she steps foot on. The last place we played at, got a stage named Pierre, and it wasn't even in France.) Stella went first; I stood in the background, with crossed arms.

"Well… we're called Random Dark, and I'm Stella Dark, I play lead guitar." Knox moved forward.

"I'm Knox, I'm a percussionist." I stepped forward as Knox stepped away. (Bloody hell, I HATE stage lights, I can't see a thing.)

"Luna Dark, lead vocals." (Descriptive huh? I'm so proud of myself.) Instantly Tomas Ross was announcing Shawn and "13 Faces." Then the black haired man I had been sitting next to came to the stage. His name was Jared and by the look on Stella and Knox's faces, they had momentarily forgotten that he was the lead singer of "Night Rising," A RIVAL BAND! Actually, it looked like most girls had forgotten that little detail. When they walked away "Love from Charlie," came next with Danielle and then (finally) Aly and "Girl World," (can you say genetic brain-washed puppets, that can't breathe without being told to by the record company that has taken over their lives?) were last.

"Now," Tomas Ross (let's just call him TR, its soooo much easier) started talking again, "This competition comes in two parts. Part one: music. Very straight forward, each band has one month to practice a new song, then they will perform it on this stage. Part two: written word. Each band has a member that writes their lyrics (really genetic puppets write their OWN lyrics?), the writers must create two pieces, one for the stage performance, and another that will be judged solely on the words. Each band will be given its own suite AND practice stage (at this point Knox started nudging me in the side… she has knives for elbows… it hurt. She always complains about having to share a stage with people whole couldn't tell a whole note from a hole in the ground)

"Rules… obviously no stealing another band's music. Also, a band must talk to any reporter when they ask for an audience, no matter what you're doing (I hope that means besides sleeping, if not, good luck pleading with Knox to not rip out your spleen when you wake her up), for however long the reporter wants, to a certain degree, of course. Also, camera crews are allowed to follow band members everywhere, except for the bathroom and personal bedrooms.

Next, all songwriter's must create their works in a select room. All writers will share one room and no other band members are allowed into the room. This is to prove that the writers don't take the credit for another member's work and also to see how creative they can be. Writers are allowed to talk to each other for ideas, but not their own band. The room will be open 24/7. If there are any questions, you are free to contact either myself or my son Ryan," Ryan poked his head out of the backstage curtain and waved before disappearing again, I thought Stella would start bawling right then and there, "by pushing the big red button. (Why do I get the feeling that the Button is going to become very well acquainted with Stella's finger?) Next to every light switch in the building, (Great more opportunity for one of us to "accidentally" hit It.) and one of us or the staff will come to you. (You might as well tell Ryan to just follow her around now to save time.) Well, I'm sure you're all tired, so I'll let you get to your rooms, and competition will start first thing tomorrow!"

Why am I here again? Oh right… the record company rules the world.


	3. Chapter 3: Writer's Room

Chapter 3: Writer's Room

The door closed behind me and my jaw hit the ground. Stella was in even worse condition; she was currently running around eyeballing, poking and excitedly squeaking at everything. Knox was somewhere behind me so I couldn't see her reaction. We were standing in the common room of our suite in the hotel. And here I was thinking the best I'd get was a separate room, maybe a nice bathroom.

NOPE! I was currently standing on thick black carpet, the kind you want to lie down on and fall asleep. The walls were white but it didn't really matter cause there pictures all over the place that mainly related to music. There were instruments, band names, signatures, and music notes, even a few posters from when we toured Europe! To my left was a kitchen, and not the wimpy kind either; it was decked out with a stainless steel oven, stainless steel microwave, stainless steel refrigerator, stainless steel toaster, and a stainless steel dishwasher. I bet if I walked over and opened one of those red cupboards there'd be stainless steel plates and cups too. In the common room, there was one circular red couch that matched the red cupboards and the red and white roses that sat on glass table that was held up by (you guessed it) stainless steel. To my right the wall was split in half, one half was occupied by an entertainment center that could give Bill Gates' center a run for its money. The other half opened into a short hallway with four doors along it (hhhmmm… three guesses as to where those lead).

"Pretty amazing huh?" Ryan stopped by my side. His brown eyes followed Stella's figure everywhere. "Dad told me to design this suite for you ladies, it wasn't all that hard as soon as I got a hold of Martin. Does she ever run out of energy?"

"Twice," I answered him, "Both times were recorded in Historical documents, that are probably withering away by now." My eyes were still roving around the room.

"She can't be that old, I mean, she acts so young…" I could hear the worry in his voice… well, he liked her enough to worry that he was too young for her.

"Don't worry, Romeo," Knox chose that minute to join our conversation, "we just enjoy making fun of her for being the oldest of us."

"Is she really?" His astonishment was clear, "But she act so… but then who's…"

"I act so immature, I know," Stella showed up at my elbow, starling us all, "but then who's youngest?" Stella picked that moment to drape her arms around my neck and hung. Which means I, who was innocently (Yeah… right) not expecting it, became very friendly with the carpet, which I'd been admiring earlier.

"BLOODY HELL YOU NO GOOD, HYPERACTIVE, PIN- CUSHIONY, WASTE OF GOOD OXYIGEN, CARBON AND SO CALLED TALENT…(I sucked in more air) … I'M GOING TO UNSCREW YOUR BOWLING BALL HEAD AND SELLYOUR PRACTICLY NON-EXISTENT BRAINS, WITH PINK FEATHERS AND BEADS STUCK IN IT AS A TRICYCLE ORNAMENT ON E-BAY!" I said as I climbed back onto my feet and toward over Stella, who was still on the floor. I ignored Ryan, whose eyes were the size of bottle caps and his mouth was so wide I could stick a giant jawbreaker in there, and it would still have room to move in and make itself a cup of tea. On the other hand, Knox simply stood there and waited. Stella turned to face Ryan.

"Luna's youngest," then she turned her black eyes on me, "very eloquent, I've never heard the brain ornament one before, where'd you get the idea?" I smirked evilly at her, and put my hand out for her to take.

"The lump of copper and silver paint that some moron stuck on the limo made me want to consider crying my brains out, it was so hideous," I announced, as I pulled Stella to her feet and made sure she wouldn't fall and bruise the ground again. Stella glanced at the still gaping Ryan, and then started to dig around in her luggage. Quickly coming back she held a camera. When the flash went off in Ryan's face he came to.

"Whhaa… wow!" he mumbled.

"Sorry, we should have waned you about Luna's vast curse vernacular."

"My way of expanding my vocabulary," I tried to explain… and failed.

"O…K," was all the recognition I got. Bloody hell, you'd think someone our age wouldn't be so scared of a yelling person.

"Well thanks for showing us to our rooms, they're great! Let your dad know we appreciate it." Knox said sweetly.

"O…K," Ryan said still shocked, glancing at me. Stella caught the look. Great now he's scared of me!

"Don't worry, she only uses her vocabulary on people she's known for a while and by then, you don't care," she tried to reassure him, she turned to me, silently pleading me to say something that would make him relax. I sighed and turned to him.

"Ryan, calm down… even if I do get to know you better, the only way you'd end up on the receiving end of my vocab practice would be to introduce me to the floor like the hyper black blob here!" I winked at him, "Watch this." I leaned my weight on one foot and inched closer to Stella, who was totally oblivious to the eminent doom. Quickly I poked her in he side of her stomach and jumped away. Stella issued a sound that brought to mind the bark of those small-pampered dogs that old ladies carry around. She flung her arms around like a bird learning to fly. Five seconds later there was a FLUMP, and Stella glared at me from the floor.

"What was that for?" she asked but we were interrupted by Ryan, who was laughing so hard, tears were threatening to drown him.

"Wow, someone needs to get that on camera," he wheezed through his bouts of laughter. "Well, I should let you girls get to sleep. You can each pick your own room. But that one," he pointed the door that was at the end of the hall, "is Martin's, speaking of the fellow, where is he?"

"I'm right here," Martin announced, walking through the door with a plastic bag in hand. "Here you are girls, all the immediate necessities."

"What kind of necessities! I thought the hotel had covered everything!" Ryan wondered.

"The hotel doesn't know these girls like I do," Martin chuckled good-naturedly at Ryan's look of worry. Then he started digging in the bag, "there's Double-Chocolate, Extra- Strength coffee mix, mechanical pencils and erasers for Knox, girl if you wear all of these out writing your melodies I'll hang you. New guitar picks, and a tuner. No Stella, I didn't forget your nail polish. And last, hair dye and tea for Luna."

"Hair dye, why hair dye?" Ryan asked.

"For some unexplainable reason, management doesn't seem to grasp the fact that my hair is naturally white. Some highly intelligent numbskull insists I dye it this freaky snow white color, because I apparently don't already look like an albino," I rolled my eyes. Martin sighed.

"You need to dye your hair tonight Luna or that someone in management will have a heart attack."

"If only," I retorted, "Stella, wanna help me with this" I shook the box of evil chemical brain damage.

"Yeah, I should go, it's been a long day," Ryan put in, Stella looked depressed.

"If you must, but you should stop by tomorrow morning. We desperately need a guide for this place." Ryan's face lit up like a mosquito in a blood bank.

"I'll do that! Night ladies," he winked at Stella, and then slipped out the door.

After Stella was done squealing at the top of her lungs ten minutes later, she helped me dye my hair. Then I picked the second to last room at the end of the hall, and promptly collapsed on the bed. Just as promptly, I was asleep.

Current location: on the main performance stage (Stella's named it Warren…don't ask)

Current time: Time for TR to stop talking and let us do what we do best

Current Problem: My patience is wear VERY thin

Current Mood: tired, cranky and bored

OK let's bring all of you lucky people who got to sleep in, up to date with the current state of Luna's Insanity. First, this morning, I wasn't woken up, Oh NO, Stella had to tip toe into my room, gently pull the covers off, and try her best not to wake me. And then PROCEED TO GRAB MY ANKLES AND PULL ME HALF WAY DOWN THE HALL, BEFORE I COULD PUSH HER OFF, AND TELL HER WHAT A PIONTLESS WASTE OF MY TIME SHE WAS, AND NEED I REMIND HER THAT I'M QUITE CAPABLE OF TAKING THAT GREASY BLACK ROPE SHE CALLS HAIR, AND WRAPPING IT AROUND HER BODY SOO MANY TIMES SHE'D LOOK LIKE COUSIN IT, AND THEN HAUL HER OFF AND TOSS HER IN THE NEAREST RIVER. AND THAT HER ONLY HOPE WAS THAT HER HEAD WAS POROBABLY FILLED WITH ENOUGH HEILIUM TO RAISE THE TITANIC, AND IT WAS CERTAINLY ENOUGH TO KEEP HER AFLOAT!!!!!!!!!

It was only then that I realized she was raiding my wardrobe trying to find something to wear, because Ryan was coming soon and she couldn't find a thing to wear and where did the Titanic idea come from, and why don't I make myself useful and go wake Knox? The only problem with that idea is that Knox is more anti-social than me when it comes to people disturbing her sleep. The last guy that tried it ended up at the bottom of a fight of stairs, with so many bruises you couldn't tell him from a puddle of mud. So, I went and told Knox that we needed to get ready while dodging all the shoes that flew threw the air.

Now I'm standing in the "Writer's Room," Stella and Knox have gone to the practice stage we've been given and I'm bored out of my mind. TR is talking, something about how music affects us all. I wonder if someone forgot to tell him that he talking to a room full of musicians who are probably too busy thinking about their own music to worry about what he's saying anyway. Oh wait, I think he's going to speak about something worth my time.

"Well, I guess I'll leave you all to write your song's feel free to leave at any time, there are notebooks and pens and pencils over on that table. That's it, you're free to stay here or go and find your bands."

Hhhmmmm… let's start with the others, first there's Vincent form "Letters form Hell" and Becky from "The Pink Scarves" (shiver), Brandon from "Addiction," Charles from "Rushed," also Clair from "Heaven." From "13 Faces," comes Christine, and Jared from "Night Rising," and Danielle from "love for Charlie," and finally the pink puff ball, Aly comes from "Girl World." (If there's a god in heaven, he's either given up on my salvation OR he's got a mean sense of humor.)

So the choice now is whether or not to go and find Stella and Knox or if I want to start working on this song I've got to write. If I go and try to find them it could take hours, and when I walk out of the room there will be a million flashing Cameras. Plus, I need time to myself, without hyper Stella and genius Knox. So I walked over to the table, pick up a thick black notebook and pencil. Ignoring the world I walk to a small alcove with a black puffy, circular chair in it. Pulling out my I-pod I scroll down to 30 Seconds to Mars and push play, than I open the notebook and begin to stare at the page.

So I run, hide and tear myself upStart again with a brand new nameAnd eyes that see into infinityI will disappearI told you once and I'll say it againI want my message read clearI'll show you the way, the way I'm goingSo I run, and hide and tear myself upStart again with a brand new nameAnd eyes that see into infinityI was almost thereJust a moment away from becoming unclearEver get the feeling you're goneI'll show you the way, the way I'm goingSo I run, and hide and tear myself upI'll start again with a brand new nameAnd eyes that see into infinitySo I run, start againWith a brand new nameWith a brand new nameSo I run and hide and tear myself up (so I run)I'll start again with a brand new name (start again)And eyes that see into infinity (with a brand new name)I will disappear

And a new song.

You know enough to know the waySix billion people just one name (I found)I found tomorrow in todayApocalyptic and insane, my dreams will never change You wanna be the one in controlYou wanna be the one who's aliveYou wanna be the one who's oldIt's not a matter of luck, it's just a matter of timeStand out on the edge of the earthStand out on the edge of the earthDive into the center of fateWalk right in the sight of a gunLook into the new future's faceI know you know enough to sayI know you know enough to play a gameYou wanna be the one in controlYou wanna be the one who's aliveYou wanna be the one who's oldIt's not a matter of luck, it's just a matter of timeStand out on the edge of the earthDive into the center of fateWalk right in the sight of a gunLook into this new future's faceStand out on the edge of the earthDive into the center of fateWalk right inside of the gunLook into the new future's face(Stand out on the edge of the earth)Stand out on the edge of the earthStand out on the edge of the earth(Look into the new future's face)Stand out on the edge of the earthDive into the center of fateWalk right in the sight of a gunLook into the new future's face

"Excuse me… Luna right?"

Ok, just cause I haven't written anything down doesn't mean you interrupt people, whoever you are you just asked to be chewed out by a tired, irritated and Irish albino!


End file.
